


Records of a Forgetful Deity

by DreamlessAshes



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gods, M/M, Multi, Non-Chronological, Not Beta Read, Original Species, kind of but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-09-25 23:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamlessAshes/pseuds/DreamlessAshes
Summary: Ziren Starliez is a man of many secrets — not all of which are his own. He finds the secrets that should have been taken to the grave and keeps them to himself, always remembering. Riden Olivyon was once the owner of a secret, but he had lost it a long time ago. For years, he has been content never knowing it.Together, they traveled the world, recording everything they learned and experienced through their immortal lives.A new secret is revealed, and Riden doubts his previous decision. He needs to uncover his forgotten past. He makes his decision, and it’s up to Ziren to pick up the pieces.***I highly don't recommend reading this thinking it's going to be good, but it'd be great to have some feedback.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be honest with you, Records is essentially just a fun project to satisfy my need to have a story about fictional linguistic anthropology disguised as a case fic. I like languages, and I have a conlang and a fantasy world that I want to show off. 
> 
> Enjoy.

In the deepest depths of the world's largest desert, a young man approached a small oasis town. Despite being covered mostly head to two in protective clothing, it could be seen that he had hair so light it rivaled the sun that should've burnt his similarly pale skin.

The foreigner arrived with a camel and a tarp-covered cart. He was clearly walking, but he moved with a grace that made him look like he was floating. The townspeople, having never seen such a person, stared.

It could be said that the town was incredibly isolated. Even the town's nearest neighbors only visited twice a year, much less a stranger who hailed from mountains unknown.

They watched the man moved through the streets with as much confidence as the ones who had walked it their whole lives. The watched warily as he approached the lake where their shrine was located and offer tribute to the local goddess. No one noticed how he hesitated upon seeing the small statue before pulling out a small sack of herbs from a pocket and placed it on the shrine.

The sack shimmered slightly, then disappeared. The goddess had gleefully accepted it. The townsfolk felt a weight lift off their shoulders. A handful of the younger ones even approached the man.

There was a slight language barrier, but the foreigner had some out-of-date knowledge of the local tongue, and the townsfolk knew the basics of the common language.

The man was an apothecary. He sold medicines for all sorts of ailments and oddities wherever he traveled. He also offered his services as a doctor, but no one needed them at that moment. Instead, he was directed to the side of a road where he could rest his camel and sell his wares.

When he had traded away as much as he could for the day and packed it all up, he set up camp by the lake, not too far from the shrine. The sun had set, and the townsfolk retired to their homes.

The moon rose, but the young man stayed awake.

You see, this man was actually a god. In the half-moon night, his eyes blazed like orange zircon behind his long blond bangs. He stared intently at the shrine for a rather long time.

Many centuries ago, the god had hidden away from the rest of the world. This little oasis town deep in the desert was where he disappeared for a century more. He wasn't particularly good at covering his divine aura at the time, so he had unintentionally gained followers in his years there. He often visited this town every generation or so since then.  
The shrine by the lake was clearly not for him. His shrine was still nestled in the healer's room. Plus, he wasn't a woman.

The god hid in this isolated town for a reason. If another had found this place, he would have to leave this place for good. Since he didn't recognize the deity sculpted in the shrine, he decided to wait for her to come out.

The night passed, and the horizon steadily turned back to red. The god watched as the statue in the shrine glistened slightly in the new light, perfectly placed to glow in streaks of warm against dark brown.

A teenager, not much younger from the god's appearance, stepped out from behind the shrine.

This was not a meeting between the divine. These were simply two that met — a runaway and an outcast.


	2. A New Deity

Ziren was a man of mystery. He kept his thoughts to himself and traveled through shadows. He popped up wherever he pleased to sell his wares. 

Under a coat of chamois was pressed a single wing of the softest and whitest feathers. Around a crown of sunlight was a halo of poison. Behind bronze-framed glasses were secrets only he knew.

This fickle god kept his head down and _ listened_. No secret that entered his vicinity would ever be lost to the grave.

—

“There’s a festival!” Riden gleefully exclaimed, bounding towards the tall blond who had been examining a stall selling local herbs. Ziren looked over to his partner with a raised eyebrow. After all, the streets were pretty empty. Riden rolled his eyes. “Not here, obviously. I overheard that the city to the west is holding a festival. It’s apparently a big thing, but I couldn’t catch what.”

“Travelers?” the herb stall owner asked. Ziren nodded in his direction. “You must have come from really far away if this is the first you hear of the festival.”

“What’s it for?” Riden inquired, heading tilting and eyes sparkling.

“The festival is celebrating the first anniversary since the ascension of the new deity! She’s been doing a pretty good job, so the capital is holding a celebration. Every major city has been preparing a festival for her.”

“A new Deity? In the capital?” Ziren suddenly cut in. He had looked rather uninterested earlier, but now he seemed a bit more invested, maybe even a bit worried. “Which one?”

“The Garnet one. They’ve been calling her a Goddess of Love since she seems to be pretty focused on good relationships this past year. A far cry from her predecessor.”

“The Deities are really something,” Ziren responded cautiously. “I heard that the last Deity of Relationships focused a lot on revenge.”

“Good thing we live in this era, eh?” the stall owner chuckled.

Ziren didn’t bother responding. “I’ll have a bushel each of this, this, and this.”

“Ah, right. That’ll be—” Ziren tossed a gold coin at him. “Wait, this is too much!” But the man and his curious companion had already disappeared into the wind. “I’m not complaining, I guess.” With that, he pocketed the coin.

—

Riden was a lot like Ziren. He would say that they were _ too _ similar to the point that they often clashed. Even so, birds of a feather flock together. He and Ziren were nigh inseparable.

While Ziren hid his secrets with a tight smile, Riden’s had long since disappeared. While Ziren drew eyes wherever he went, Riden was comparably average. This was fine. He had a feeling ingrained in his soul that being anything else would be dangerous.

—

“Ziren, stop glaring at your hair,” Riden sighed. “We’re going to get lost again if you don’t start paying attention to the road. The horse is only so smart.” Realizing the futility of getting Ziren to refocus, he tugs the reins out of his hands and takes over driving. “If you really hate it, just dye it. It’s either you complain about your hair color, or you complain about dye being bad. Pick one.”

“I’ll suffer.”

“You do this all the time— Wait, I think I took a wrong turn.”

“Haha,” Ziren deadpanned. He frowned as he looked around. “I recognize this road. It’s a back road that leads to Caare.”

“This is a backroad? It’s… well, not crowded, but close.”

“It must be for a festival. Caare is a well-sized city.” Ziren groaned. “It’s going to be difficult turning around.”

“We’re already here though,” Riden pouted. “Let’s stay for the festival! Please, Ren? It’ll be fine. If not, I can go by myself—”

“You’re paying for the room.” Riden grinned, sparkles glistening around him. Ziren stared at him blandly. “Control your magic.”

“Thanks, Ziri!”

“This is probably going to be the only ascension festival you’ll see for a really long time,” he admitted unwillingly. “It’s just Caare, I suppose. We might not run into any problems.”

Riden threw his arms up in excitement, but Ziren scrambled to catch the reins before the horses ran off course. 

“Watch out!” a nearby driver yelled. Riden shouted an apology back and laughed awkwardly.

“We should probably find somewhere to park.”

It was easier said than done. If the backroad was well-populated, the main roads must have been congested. The same most certainly applied to the city itself. After nearly two hours of roaming around, they finally managed to find somewhere to store their belongings. Ziren had to take advantage of his ‘special identity’ just to book a room at a tiny inn on the outskirts for the next night. Tonight, they’d have to camp in their carriage.

Ziren was grumpy the entire time.

“Do you think I should pray to this new Goddess of Love?” Riden asked teasingly. Ziren scowled, elbowing the other rather roughly. “It’s not like I can pray to you, you lazy Medicine God.”

“I’m not lazy.”

“You’re right. Laziness is avoiding expending energy. You just actively avoid it. Irresponsible then.”

“That’s better.”

“You’re awful.”

“I’m an irresponsible deity that roams the continent with a pretty immortal.”

“I can and will smack you,” the so-called pretty immortal rushed his too-long bangs away from his eyes with a huff, cheeks reddening. “My hair is a mess.”

“I thought you wanted to grow it out.”

“That was before I learned that I have a literal mane. I don’t remember it being this untameable at this length.”

Ziren prevented himself from retorting that he didn’t remember anything. “You probably won’t be able to grow it this long again for a very long time, but if you’re sure, we can get it cut when the crowds disperse after the festival.”

Riden pursed his lips a little, staring at the long ponytail tied over his shoulder in contemplation. He shifted his eyes to observe Ziren. “And you? Are you going to finally dye yours?”

Ziren scowled. “I’m not putting that garbage in my hair.”

“Hair dyes are pretty gross nowadays, aren’t they? I remember when everyone had—“Riden froze, then blinked, then scrunched his nose. “Anyway, it’s late. Are you just going to watch the stars until morning?”

Ziren hummed. “Have a good night’s sleep.” 

He folded his jacket and handed it to the other. Riden took the proffered blanket-substitute and climbed to the back where they kept their storage. 

“G’night,” he yawned before making himself comfortable and falling asleep.

Ziren glanced over to make sure the other was sound asleep. He still didn’t want to risk waking him up. He blinked and disappeared.

—

Riden woke up to sun break. When he walked out, there was a humidity to the air, puddles in the streets, and dew on the grass.

Ziren was still sitting on the roof, eyes closed, and completely dry. 

“You should get down before people start to question you,” Riden called out. 

—

“Caare is pretty famous actually,” Ziren said. “It used to be the capital of the world for nearly two whole eras. Nowadays, it’s just a normal city, but there’s still a diverse range of deities worshipped here. Not like any of them bother to stop by in person.”

“How come?”

“This place is cursed. Or at least, it was.” 

The two continued walking through the city. It was still early, but the streets were beginning to congest. Riden looked around, his gaze catching on the ruins of a building hidden amongst the overgrowth across a crystal clear lake. 

After a moment of silently watching it, Ziren added “That lake used to be red,” 

Riden scrunched his nose. No one else in the city was particularly surprised by the lake. “What do you mean? This lake was famous for being crystal clear as if floating on air.”

“It was part of the curse,” Ziren said. “Seems like Garnet’s ascension canceled her predecessor’s curse.”

“What was it?”

Ziren shrugged. “No idea. Whatever it was, it barely did anything. Maybe it affects relationships. I, for one, did not have any the last time I was here. Maybe the curse was lifted sometime after.”

Riden stared out at those ruins again. “What about that over there?”

“Hm?” Ziren squinted, trying to find what Riden was pointed at.

“Those ruins. The ones made of white stone. They stand out a little against the forests.”

“Sorry, Rai. I have no idea what you’re talking about. There might be an illusion covering it that only you can see for whatever reason, but I definitely can’t.” Ziren poked him. “Don’t you dare try to explore that. If you enter, I won’t be able to find you.”

“Worry not. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ziren grumbled. “Come on. Let’s stop by the shrine. You’ll have to go in by yourself, but I’ll wait nearby.”

Riden finally looked away from the lake to grin brightly at the other. “Understood!” He softly patted Ziren on the shoulder then ran off towards the building everyone was gathering in.

Ziren watched Riden go until he disappeared from sight. He looked at the red carnation-themed stained windows that lined the top of the building. The sun was shining brightly. It was a good day.

The god moved away from the busy streets to hide in the shadows of an alley. There, he kept watch. It wasn’t apparent at first, especially not to Riden who had never been there before, but every building on this street was a temple belonging to a different god. There were a total of twelve temples, each built identically with little flourishes to differentiate them.

The building that Ziren decided to hide by had narcissus flowers in the stained glass. Unlike the other temples, it was mostly abandoned and poorly cared for. Ziren wondered if he should step in, but only the desperate bothered to stop by. After all, the deity of this shrine was known for their capricious.

Even so, he took a peek inside.

There were a dozen statues within, lined neatly along the walls. Each was a portrayal of every incarnation of The Turquoise God — the God of Endings, of Health, of Travel.

“Wait a second,” Ziren hissed, finally noticing the center statue of the current deity, a single white wing stretched out behind. He prowled closer to exam the plaque. “Goddess. Pheal, you absolute twat. Is this what you meant by hiding my identity? How long has it been like this?”

—

Riden had finished offering incense some time ago, but he was still hanging around the shrine. The statue of the new goddess was still hidden. They wouldn’t be unveiling it until the sun lights up the Red Lake. He wanted to watch.

Some minutes of eavesdropping led to him learning that Caare’s statues were only a fraction of the extravagance of the major cities’ creations. These statues were larger than life, so the main city statues must have been buildings of their own! 

“A once in a lifetime event,” someone said next to him. Riden turned to see a young woman with pinkish hair and dressed entirely in white. She really stood out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd of neutral colors and dark reds, but no one seemed to notice her except for himself.

“An ascension?”

“Most mortals never live to see a deity ascend,” she explained. “The cycle is entirely thrown off though. The Lithus Deities ascend when they turn ten years old, but the last ascension was for the already teenage Emerald about 225 years ago, only 50 years after Ruby’s ascension.” Riden gawked at the girl’s unprompted words. She looked away from the still veiled statue to smile brightly at him. “Hi, my name is Juliang Meadows, caretaker of this shrine. You are?”

Riden blinked, taking a moment to process the sudden switch from ominous to friendly. “Er, my name is Riden Olivyon, an apothecary.”

“Apothecary? Those still exist in Caare?”

Riden shook his head. “I’m just visiting. This is my first time in a large city as far as I can remember.”

Juliang squealed, followed by a laugh like bells. “Welcome to Caare! How do you like it here?”

“It’s a nice city,” Riden replied, sincerely. “I’d probably consider settling down here. It feels… homey.”

“I’ve never heard anyone refer to Caare as ‘homey’ before,” Juliang admitted. “This place had a cursed aura on it for millennia up until Lady Garnet’s ascension. I’m glad that it’s gotten better. This is my home, after all.”

“So I’ve heard,” Riden murmured. He took another look at Juliang and tilted his head. “Have we met before?”

Juliang chuckled. “As much as I’d like to say yes, I’m afraid not. I don’t recognize your face in the slightest.”

Riden sighed. “You’re the caretaker, right? Have you seen the statue?”

Juliang shook her head and drooped down dramatically. “I wish! I’d love to see how inaccurate it is before everyone else?”

“Inaccurate?” 

“I guess you wouldn’t know,” Juliang hummed. “Since the deities are usually still kids when they ascend, the statues depict a prediction of their older selves.” She pointed at a statue to the left of the central one. Unlike the other winged incarnations of Garnet, the wings on Garnet’s figure were tucked against his body instead of spreading wide. Riden also noticed how it was the most crudely constructed of all of the statues, and the paint was mostly chipped away. It was clearly made with lower quality materials than the rest.

“That one is the previous God of Relationships,” she continued. “Best known as the Vengeful God. Well within his rights to be one considering he was in his prime during the Millennium War some ten thousand years ago. Anyway, his name was Garden, and he had stunted wings. His pin feathers never came in, so even in old age, he had tiny wings of fluffy down. He hated his statues and avoided visiting temples with them. After the war ended, he had the wings recarved to what you see now.” 

Riden eyed Juliang from the corner of his eye. What exactly was she? He didn’t voice any of the suspicions floating through his thoughts. Instead, he just “hm” d in place of genuine response.

“So Riden Olivyon,” she drawled. “The sun doesn’t set for a while. Mind if I show you around the city? Not asking on a date, I’m way older than you—” Although they looked the same age, Riden didn’t doubt that in the slightest. “But you look like you could use a little distraction.”

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “I came here with my partner, but he tries to avoid large crowds. He’s probably skulking around somewhere, but he’ll find me. Where do you want to go?”

“Oh, a partner, eh?” Juliang snickered.

Riden inhaled deeply. “Not like that. Traveling partners.”

Juliang shrugged, not accepting his words at face value. “Well, hopefully, he pops up soon. Do you like sweets? There’s a bakery on the street over—"

—

Just an hour later, nestled in the warmth of a bakery, the two were seated across beside each other. 

“I can’t believe that’s how you met!” she wheezed with uninhibited glee. “Does he still call you that? My lady?”

“Sadly, no,” Riden replied with similar amusement. “Some time ago, Ren looked a lot like a tomboy princess from a mountain kingdom we were passing through. The royal guards thought he was her in disguise. They were very persistent. You can guess what happened next. He can’t hear, much less say, those two words with shivering nowadays.”

Riden worked through his third bowl of ice cream. Juliang wanted to take another sip of her heated beverage, but she was shaking too hard from laughter.

“That’s amazing,” she snickered after catching her breath. “To travel the world sounds amazing. I’ve been here in Caare for as long as I can remember. I’d love to leave for just a little bit.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever settled down anywhere before,” Riden mused. “As far as I can remember, I’ve always been a nomad.” That wasn’t to say that he actually remembered very far back, but he had a feeling that it was true regardless. 

“There’s this ancient phrase I’ve heard,” Juliang started. “Home is where the heart is. You’re with your Ren, so I think you’re probably pretty happy with your lifestyle.”

“Mhm, I am,” he answered in a low voice. He set down his spoon, satisfied with his sugar intake. He looked out the window and made an excited, chirp-like noise. “Snow!”

Juliang looked over as well and gasped. “Snow.”

“Do you not normally see it?” Riden questioned worriedly. “We’re far enough north that snow in early January should be the norm. Or is this related to the curse?”

“Weather has been screwed up for the past couple centuries across the continent,” Juliang said. “It wasn’t very noticeable at first, but it was getting worse over the centuries. I suspected that a Deity may have ascended where no one was watching, but what happened to them after is anyone’s guess. I wonder if they died.”

“I wonder,” Riden echoed, watching the snowfall. He pursed his lips and glared at the street. “Ren usually finds me right about now. I wonder where he is.”

—

Ziren Starliez, a petty liar, was currently cleaning his own shrine.

—

“He’s probably fine,” Riden reassured himself. He redirected his attention to Juliang. “Ren told me that the Deities avoid Caare because of the curse, but he couldn’t tell me what it does.”

“I couldn’t tell you either,” Juliang drawled. “But there’s always more than meets the eye.”

“Then would you happen to know about the white stone ruins across the Red Lake?” Riden noticed Juliang suddenly freezing in place. It was only a second of surprise before she relaxed, and a sly smile graced her features.

“Sure! I can’t tell you what’s inside them, but would you like a closer look?”

In that second, Riden remembered Ziren’s plea not to enter them. Seeing though… This should be fine.

—

The sun was finally passing over the horizon. The crystal clear lake turned red as blood, only a few scant minutes compared to the centuries prior.

The life of a mortal was short. None had ever lived past 200 years. While not quite a blink of the eye for a deity, it wasn’t patience-ending either.

Riden wasn’t interested in the lake. He felt like it was something he had continuously seen, something that almost reminded him of  _ home _ . It was a bit nostalgic, but nothing worthwhile. What he was interested, however, was how the others in the crowd reacted. 

Most people, tourists like Ziren and himself, awed the magical change. Many of the locals watched it with appreciation. Contrarily, the eldest among the eldest, the ones bordering the turn of their second century, had a slight fear in their eyes. Riden wondered… He would ask Juliang about it later.

Juliang pulled him a little to the front of the crowd then left him.

She swam through the crowd until she reached the statue. With a snap of her fingers, she lit a brazier. One by one, faster and faster like a domino chain, the entire shrine and the streetlamps throughout the whole city lit up just as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

The shrine became packed full of bodies of all shapes and sizes and colors. Riden could not remember being in such a situation. There were just… so many people.

Still, he focused on Juliang and the figure beside her. Not a word was spoken when she pulled the silk veil off of the statue to reveal the portrayal of a young woman. The stone statue was painted with vibrant colors of reds, pinks, and purples, a gold coronet embedded with the deepest red garnets was placed on her head.

She was the only one of all the statues with the coronet, and it was clear that it was a separate entity from the stone. The headpiece denoted the current Garnet Deity of the century. Other deities had their own symbol, but the coronet was Garnet’s.

Riden was vaguely aware that the Imperial Deities, the ones that incarnate immediately instead of spending centuries or even millennia between (or they should have at least, he thinks, recalling the absence the God of Magic’s incarnation), were adorned in more than just a piece of jewelry. He had once seen the Goddess of Reincarnation’s statue in a small village. They didn’t have much, but they were devoted to their goddess. They had neither gold nor silver, and their statue was made of mere wood, but they had a beautiful tiara passed on through generations. It was a tiara of the thinnest wire molded into intricate patterns and held in place with a ribbon of lace, little emeralds shavings bound to it in such perfect craftsmanship.

Riden wished to one day travel to the major cities. He wanted to see the shrines of each of their patron gods. 

—

Ziren observed Riden worriedly. 

The younger man had been in a daze for days after they left Caare. Riden often stared at nothing, mind overcome with burdensome thoughts. He moved through the world with a sort of distractedness Ziren hadn’t seen in him since the accident that lost Riden’s memories.

After a month had passed with little change, Ziren finally cornered the other and asked: “What happened in Caare?”

Riden chewed the button of his lip and averted his eyes.

“Riden.”

“I…” he started nervously. “I kind of went to those ruins.” 

Ziren sighed. It could be worse, but— “That’s not what’s worrying you.”

“Ren, I think those ruins are related to my past. My far past, before it was wiped away in that desert all those centuries ago, probably before we were even aware of each other’s existence at all.”

“We met before we ascended,” Ziren stated. “There’s not much to know that far back. We were both some random brats of nobility that had escaped our family’s properties and met in the middle. I’d understand if it was something after, but before we met? Are you sure?”

“More than anything,” Riden murmured. “There’s something foul afoot. I knew it at some point, and I want to know what it is. I’m missing something I never should have, and it might almost be too late to remember now.” Ziren frowned. “Ren, do you have anything to tell me? Anything else at all?”

Ziren took a deep breath. He said nothing, then hesitantly shook his head.

Riden gritted his teeth and turned away. “Fine. I already have a lead anyway.” He stormed away from his partner.

Ziren observed carefully. He did that a lot. Watching. And waiting.

He gripped the locket hidden under his shirt, took another deep breath, and followed Riden.


	3. The First Mission

Ziren wasn’t the least bit surprised to wake up one morning to Riden’s disappearance. His belongings were missing without a trace, and even magic couldn’t sense him nearby. 

Riden was long gone.

Ziren wished he stayed just a little bit longer, bid him farewell at least. He should’ve waited long enough for Ziren to return the locket at least.

—

A young man with pale hair, pale skin, and the fieriest eyes walked into a shrine. It wasn’t much, but it was well-loved in the village. 

He was followed in by the god worshipped there.

“What’d you call me here for?” Ziren grumbled, arms crossed.

“Even as a man of thirteen hundred years old, you pout adorably,” the god mused. Ziren turned to glare at them. “It’s really been a while. You’re so much taller yet you still have a baby face!”

“Pheal, I swear—“Ziren shot backward to avoid the pinch aiming for his cheeks. “What do you want?”

Pheal adjusted their stance to one befitting one of the eldest gods of their era. They passed the ever-cautious Ziren to lean against their statue adorned in a plethora of pearls. They twirled a short strand of sandy brown hair restlessly.

“There’s a bit of a problem going around in Avemmil, and as the only one capable of tracking you, I was sent to carry the message,” Pheal stated before devolving into a bitter ramble. “Which I don’t understand at all. I have better things to do. I can’t babysit all of the runaway gods. Just cause I did it when you were a kid, doesn’t mean I want to do it with the others. Emeira is a pain and a half to get to sit still and do her job, and Rubell keeps escaping, but this time no one can find where he ran off — the little prick.”

Ziren stared blankly. “So what do you want?” he reiterated.

“Right,” Pheal coughed, readying themself to put up a regal tone. It’s not very successful. “So uh, God of Health and Medicine, Tsuor Phoslane or whatever you go by nowadays, devoted followers beg you hear their pleas. The volcanic city of Gaet is falling. The molten lava is rising. The miasma is condensing. Do something about it.”

“Gaet? I thought that place was abandoned because the miasma there was already lethal?”

“I thought you’d know considering how much you travel.”

“I only move around the villages in Earaat. What makes you think I would hear whispers of the ongoings in Avemmil when I didn’t even know that Caare’s curse was lifted?”

“You used to hear whispers of everything,” Pheal grumbled under his breath. Ziren pursed his lips. It’d been a while since he paid attention. “Anyway, Gaet cleared up around the same Caare’s curse was lifted. Not sure if you saw Shrine Carer Meadows in Caare, but she suggested that the Peridot Deity ascended. I went looking into it. No idea why, but Peridot somehow gained some followers in the Tupas Desert, and a lot of curses were lifted in exchange for climate control.”

Ziren hummed. “So you want me to handle Gaet while you go searching for the cause?”

“Pretty much.” Pheal casually examined his nails.

“Fine,” Ziren sighed. “I’m assuming you want me to stop by Elai and bait Rubell back to his duties?” 

“Yep, that’d be great.” Pheal grinned. 

Ziren studied them just a little bit longer. “I’ll get to it immediately.” He pulled out a small sachet of traditional offerings. He set it on the altar and walked away.

Despite only being an arm’s length away, the sachet was consumed by a soft light before reappearing in Pheal’s hand. He picked at the opening.

Then promptly threw it across the room.

The trail of stinging nettle on the ground sat mockingly. “Petty,” Pheal huffed. A wave of his hand ushered it back into the sachet.

— 

Ziren walked within a dark forest. Sunlight didn’t reach the ground, and monsters growled around every tree. The wind brushed through the leaves, wrapping around the lone god like a loving feline. 

Ziren wasn’t much of a cat person, continually having to wave the playful wind spirits away from him. They usually obeyed, but this forest was so dense with them that they were too independent 

Eventually, he walked into a towering wall. It was even taller than the trees and made of pure granite, a testament to the power of old magic. Every inch of it was carved with lost languages. He didn’t pay them any heed, turning to the right and walking south. 

At some point, Ziren realized he was being followed by a young girl. She wasn’t too young to be considered a child, but she was far from an adult.

The lighting was very dim, but it was just enough to reflect off of the iridescent blue scales that littered the edges of her eyes and her exposed arms. What really set her out was her knee-length, midnight blue hair and wide, naive eyes sparkling with divine power. The deep blue looked nice, almost natural if not for the fact that the premature grey of her natural hair had grown out. In addition to the ruggedness of her clothing, she must have been wandering this forest for quite a while. 

“Hey, you,” Ziren called out. The girl smiled widely at finally being acknowledged. “What’s a young undana doing so far from a large body of water?”

The girl opened her mouth, and a series of dolphin-like clicks came out. They were swallowed by the loud wind earlier, but now that Ziren was paying attention, he could hear them.

“You’re lucky I can understand you somewhat,” Ziren sighed. The girl nodded excitedly and clicked out something else. “A seer? Couldn’t your sight have let you meet me outside of these forests? You’re clearly lost.” The girl shrugged as she tried to explain a lot at once. “When we get to the gates of Avemmil, we’ll get you a vocalizer. I can barely understand a word of your dialect.” 

The girl’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She started rattling off whatever came to mind, although Ziren could only pick out some of it. From what he could pick up, she was from a tribe that often interacted with humans. She had to gesture a bit to get across that her previous vocalizer got too dry and stopped working, only to be broken permanently after a run-in with some carnivorous plants.

It really was a miracle she’d survived this long even though she insisted it was because of her sight’s warnings. It took a lot of skill to survive here regardless of if you were fully aware of every danger to come. Then again — Ziren glanced at the girl trailing behind him — she did seem to be an unascended deity. Not all gods were found on time, but with a little bit more socialization, she’d ascend smoothly.

Ziren wasn’t able to determine which deity she was, but that was why he was letting her tag along. He made up his mind to actually find Rubell and get him to assess her.

As the sun descended just below the tree lines, the wall lit up. Avemmil and the caliga that originated from it had some odd obsession with sunlight and geometry that Ziren couldn’t understand. He could still admire the work put into it. The girl, on the other hand, seemed to take it in stride. Ziren really wanted to know where she was from since she appeared to be so accustomed to engineering marvels. Did she seem to think that this was standard architecture?

Regardless, he’d have to put off asking her until they could have a fluent conversation.

Just before the sunset entirely, the two finally reached two soldiers crossing massive but mostly decorative scythes over the incomparably little gate. Ziren raised his hand to catch their attention. The one closest to them turned.

Ziren briefly wondered what a god was doing here. 

“Identification, please,” the female guard said. Ziren pulled out a card trimmed with gold. The guard blinked before daring to reach out to examine it. The other guard leaned over to look at it as well.

“Interesting,” he mumbled under his breath.

The first guard handed it back to Ziren and smiled. “Pleasure to meet you. My name is Chiron Hallows.” Ziren didn’t recognize the name. “If you need any help, I’ll be available in an hour after my shift ends.”

Ziren nodded. “Thank you.” He gestured for the girl to follow him in. She pointed to herself in confusion then the guard, but the two guards lifted up their weapons to make way without looking twice at her. 

Ziren actually had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the little gate. It was a secret entrance known only to a select few, after all. Only people actively searching for it would find it.

Ziren glanced at the girl. He wondered if the two guards had seen her wandering around. She didn’t seem too worried, but she was quite confused about the identification, stealing glances back every now and then.

“Normally, they’d need identification from all travelers,” Ziren explained. “But I have a ‘dependent’ registered under me. A plus one without questions if you will. Though, Rai is missing, so you’re currently that person. Come on, it’s a bit of a walk to the nearest city from here.”

It fell into silence with the unnamed girl more awed by the glowing walls of the tunnel. She occasionally ran ahead of Ziren to try and jump up and brush her hands along the ceiling. Since the top of the underground road was much taller than the gate connected to it, touching the top wasn’t a particularly easy feat for someone her height. She was eventually getting bored of her game, so on her last jump, Ziren gave her a little bit of a push just unnoticeable enough that the girl was surprised by her success. Regardless, she kept chattering about it after. 

She was a very different traveling companion from Riden. Where the younger man preferred melding into Ziren’s shadow in companionable silence, the girl was a ball of energy and excitement. Ziren hoped that age wouldn’t change that. 

In the corner of his mind, he remembered a green-haired boy that ran around a hill picking flowers while Ziren strolled down the path watching him.

After a half-hour of walking, the tunnel reached a fork. There were characters written into each path, but no one could read them. Ziren didn’t need to anyway. He already knew where he was going. 

Finally, they reached the end of the tunnel. There was a hatch at the top and a ladder to it. Ziren just had to nudge it a bit to open it. He and the girl found themselves in a dilapidated little shack. It looked lived-in, much to Ziren’s surprise. He poked at one of the many stacks of papers littering the room.

He looked around a little bit before sighing.

“Bell, come out. This was a terrible hiding place.” 

Behind a couch, a head of red hair popped out. The boy, even younger than the blue-haired girl behind Ziren, had freckles and ruby red eyes. He was scowling at Ziren, often looking to the girl with skepticism.

“I’m not going to make you go back,” Ziren reassured. “But did you have to choose this of all places? What if someone other than me came here?”

“Chiron and her nephew would have warned me,” Rubell answered haughtily. “Besides, who else but you would bother coming here? The others would just go through the main entrances, and Emeira sneaks in through the waterways. Anyway, I heard from my messengers that you were coming here, so I thought I’d greet you and hide while at it! Two birds with one stone.”

Ziren brought a hand up to his face in exasperation. “I was going to look for you, anyway.” He stepped aside and gestured to the still-unnamed girl. “Can you tell me which deity she is?”

The girl looked extremely confused at the request, but Rubell refused to explain. He stared her straight in the eyes. His ruby-like eyes turned into actual rubies while Liluna’s became smooth moonstones.

Ziren always liked watching this. It was a rare moment.

“Guidance,” Rubell announced. “She’s a seer too.”

“I already knew that part,” Ziren said. The girl nodded affirmatively.

Rubell stole another glance at the girl. “She’s not just any god of Guidance. She’s this era’s Moonstone. Are you sure she’s not a spy for Pheal?”

“She’s not even properly ascended.” The girl quietly clicked out something irritatedly. Ziren patted her head. “Sorry. We’ll get a vocalizer soon. Bell, we’re going to get going. Also, do your job. Something’s wrong in Gaet.”

—

“Why are you so nice to me?” the girl finally asked once she fitted the cotton choker around her neck. She was grateful, but she was not naive enough to believe everyone was kind. 

“I noticed divine power in you immediately,” Ziren shrugged. “You needed to be appraised.”

“Appraised?” she echoed. “What am I? A trinket?”

“We’re all trinkets,” Ziren grumbled. The girl stared at him for a little bit before laughing.

Once she calmed down, giggles still escaping her now and then, she introduced herself. “My name is Liluna Maefield, mysterious immortal of the Maes River Tribe. Though, I can probably change that to deity now?”

“Maes River, huh?” Ziren hummed. “I think I know where that is. They occasionally trade with Haven Town. I have property there, but I’ve never actually been to the undana tribe at the bottom of the hill.”

“We’re stranger neighbors then!” Liluna shouted. Ziren almost snorted at that but opted to take a deep breath instead to stop himself from laughing. She suddenly frowned and changed the topic. “By the way, who is the kid we met earlier? I can guess he’s also a god…”

“That was Rubell Cordon,” Ziren said. He hoped nothing more needed to be said. 

He was right. Liluna stared at him, blinked, then threw herself into her hands and groaned loudly. “Rubell Cordon,” she stated as though repeating a textbook definition, which she technically was. “This era’s Ruby, God of Life. Ruby is one of the four Imperials and the patron deity of the domain of Avemmil and the city of Elai. Ruby ascended on July 1st, 1778 AE. He’s like two hundred years older than I am. I should have offered him proper respects. I’m an idiot. Ah, but you even used a nickname for him. You must be very old.”

“Probably,” Ziren replied unhelpfully. “I used to babysit him.”

“And you?” Liluna inquired. “Who are you?”

“Ziren Starliez, apothecary.”

“Boo, boring,” Liluna whined. “There’s way more than that.”

“Maybe later. Do you remember the way back to Bell’s shack?” Liluna nodded. “Sit there for a while. You don’t have any identification, so you won’t be able to do much.” 

“Understood!” she nodded again, obediently. If it were Riden, Ziren would have been suspicious. He gazed at her for a couple seconds before deciding that she wasn’t guilty of the same mischief. 

“You heard Hallows. If you need any help, go to her. Any words of warning?”

Liluna’s eyes glazed over for a moment before brightening. “The problem there is manmade. It is neither divine nor magical. You’ll be able to fix it up in a pinch!”

Ziren’s eye twitched. “Oh.” 

“Although, by doing so, you’ll be placing yourself into the direct watch of— um… That’s about it. I can’t understand what else I saw, but I’ll know it when I see it!” Liluna jumped, pumping her fist into the air excitedly. 

“Okay,” Ziren said. Talking to Liluna was rather energy-consuming, but it was amusing. “I’ll be back soon then.”

“Don’t worry about me!” Liluna reassured. “Take your time. I’ll meet you again when the spirits call for it.”

Ziren accepted that. She survived the dark forest little worse for wear without any weapons. 

He squinted at her again.

“Before I go, can you tell me what brought you to meet me?”

“Can’t say to be honest,” Liluna admitted. “Sometimes, I have actual visions like the one I just gave you. Most of the time, it’s just an arrow telling me where to go.” She held out her hand. Tattooed in her palm was a golden triangle. “You can’t see it, but there’s an arrow there point in directions. It’s been pointing me towards you, but now it’s pointing to the shack.”

“Interesting,” Ziren murmured. It wasn’t often that one met someone with physical magic born on them. “You’re a mixed-race.”

“Mhm,” Liluna agreed. “Mother was an agqua, and my father was a troisida. I know that you’re a lumina and a human. How unfortunate.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, I need to get going,” Liluna sighed. “Take care.” She patted Ziren’s forearm then stepped back.

“You as well.” 

Ziren watched her leave until she was out of sight. He reached behind himself, the tips of his fingers brushing against the aching appendage bound against his back. He’d have to find one of his shrines soon. Hopefully, Pheal didn’t manage to transform his statues here.


	4. Mysteries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... so I may have accidentally changed my writing style here? I'll go back and edit the past chapters eventually, but for now, please bare with this.

When the world was new, there was only one sentient race. Time passed, and they developed. They learned how to live everywhere that their world had to offer.

Initially spread across the land, they learned to live under the ground, in the depths of the ocean, and above the clouds.

Civilization was globalized. Technology, artistry, communication — it was accelerating rapidly and all at once. It was as close to a single utopia as it could get. 

And, of course, it eventually crashed.

The people of the land, the underground, the sea, and the skies were split. For millennia, the four domains existed separately. This was known in history as the Isolated Epoch.

—

Avemmil was the most advanced of the four domains. Its denizens had to be. They did not have access to sunlight, and oxygen was limited. They needed a perfect understanding of engineering to build roads and caverns and cities without it all collapsing.

Gaet was one of the first cities in Avemmil, a testament to the scientific marvels from the grand era of science before the Isolated Epoch. To call Gaet a city was an understatement. Like the other major cities across the world, Gaet was more of a unified state. It was the backbone of Avemmil for centuries until scientists learned how to replicate it and spread it across the domain. 

Gaet was the agricultural epicenter. The entirety of Gaet was an artificial recreation of the surface with a functioning day and night cycle and seasons, replacement sun and rain, and plenty of oxygen.

While it had not been the primary supplier of food for a while, it was still a massive tragedy when the city was engulfed in miasma after its patron deity was executed. Every plant and many animals had died, and the city was abandoned. Only the occasional scavenger would dare to cross it.

But apparently, the miasma had departed a few centuries ago, and Gaet was repopulated. The current miasma crisis was nowhere near as bad as the original, but it was still enough to be a disaster.

Ziren was nearing the end of another secret tunnel. With a little bit of a push, he found himself in an ancient library impeccably preserved by the most elaborate of magics. He used to visit this library in his childhood, but every single book contained in this library was written in the lost language that he could never decipher.

He wouldn’t amuse himself today though. He maneuvered through the maze of bookshelves and finally found himself at the entrance. 

Before, opening the door meant inviting immediate death. Ziren was not a caliga of Avemmil that had adapted to withstand the miasma prevalent under the surface. Even the caliga themselves couldn’t live in such dense miasma for too long.

Now, Ziren was the God of Health and Travel. That was practically the equivalent of being the personification of immunity. He could probably live in the Gaet from five hundred centuries ago and  _ thrive _ .

Without hesitation, he opened the door and strode out.

The entrance to the library was located in an abandoned niche deep beneath the actual city of Gaet. It could be said that this niche wasn’t even a part of Gaet as much as it was some random cavern that had been filled with stuff. It was one of the few locations for a secret tunnel that Ziren knew of that didn’t lead to a street or shop. Considering there were people currently inhabiting the city, he had to choose this one.

Wishing that he had a hood to his jacket, Ziren walked through the rough passage that steadily merged into a proper road. Although few, some people rushed between houses with cloths held over their noses and mouths and some moving about their work with full gas masks on. Luckily, the plant life wasn’t wholly wilted even though it was clearly suffering from the miasma.

Everywhere the god walked, miasma cleared. It was quickly filled back up, but it was enough for the citizens of Gaet to realize that a rather powerful deity had appeared.

After hours of walking instead of taking one of the trolleys to avoid the admittedly small crowds, Ziren reached government hall at the center of the city. The government hall’s lobby functioned as the city’s major shrine for their patron deity, Peridot.

Like the shrines in Caare, the walls were lined with sculptures of past incarnations of the Deity of Cycles. However, there were two empty spaces. The statues of the current and most recent incarnations were unoccupied. Understandably, there was no present Peridot, or at least they had yet to ascend and claim their realm of rule. The other one, however, was a thousand stories whispered in the dark. 

Ziren didn’t really need to be at the center of the city to sense the location of his prayers. He could actually be on the opposite side of the world and still pinpoint the areas. It was easier to get a more detailed understanding of the city layout this way, though. Wherever his shrines were properly functioning, it was unlikely for the miasma leaks to be there too. The less functional ones, however, were closer to the cause.

He made a move to leave, but something deep inside him, a feeling accumulated over lifetimes, dragged him back. With a reluctant sigh, Ziren walked over to the unadorned central altar. With deft hands, he crafted a makeshift offering and carved a basic idol reminiscent to one he’d seen centuries ago in a town blinded by sand. 

He wanted to place it in the center, but something told him that it wasn’t ready. He moved to the other empty space where the shattered remains of the previous deity’s statue were. He placed the idol and the sachet there, then finally felt comfortable enough to leave. 

—

To be fair, Ziren wasn’t physically inclined. He only needed to be healthy enough to not fall to ailments. Strength laid in the rule of another god.

He was not strong, but the late God of Magic had given him command of the wind. In this enclosed cavern where wind cycled endlessly, Ziren could sweep into a breeze and appear wherever he wished.

It took too much effort to do it for distances beyond his line of sight, especially if there were too many twists and turns. The wind went wherever, so it was easier to hop through a single stream than to transfer. It seemed like he’d have to put effort into traversing the vents too small for anything larger than a rat. At the very least, he was only moving through them for the sake of purifying them.

Technically, he didn’t have to be in their immediate vicinity to do so as long has someone wished it. Ziren really only had to put a little extra effort into focusing on the prayer to grant it. With such a massive city praying for the same thing, he could immediately purify the city.

Unfortunately, the source was a completely separate matter. This was an official order from elders.

With a sigh and a few choice words internalized toward Pheal, Ziren placed a hand over one of these vents and disappeared.

He only got so far towards his destination before the wind stopped. So deep in the underground catacombs, air naturally wouldn’t reach, much less wind.

The tunnels Ziren landed in were naturally formed. The air was stale too. If he roamed too far, he would probably die of suffocation and no way out.

Being so far from natural wind made his skin prick. Without the ability to more or less teleport out, he felt vulnerable.

He crossed his arms, slowed his breath, and kept walking.

—

Immortals aren’t exactly undying.

The only difference between them is how long it takes them to die.

Immortals can never be undying for their souls, by nature, are mortal. Eventually, they’ll burn themselves out. 

Cyclical is the soul. To live, to die, to rest, and to be born anew.

Only the true deities can live eternal lives. False deities will destroy their souls. Mysterious immortals will know when it’s time to go.

That’s what is an undeniable fact.

—

Ziren felt pressure against his chest. There’s a false deity hidden in these caves. They’re powerful too, and they were trying to intimidate Ziren.

He may be at a disadvantage, but Ziren brushed it off. He has to pinpoint the location of the miasma source — possibly the false deity — before he can leave. For the time being, he can pretend to be a mysterious immortal instead of a god.

The false deity must have realized that Ziren wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The pressure was lifted, and the tunnels began to make more sense. Upon concluding that the tunnels were controlled by the false deity, Ziren opted to leave.

It was perfect timing, actually. Ziren didn’t know it yet, but any further and he would have been lost forever.

He would remember the route here though.

—

In this world, magic takes two forms: the physical and the metaphysical. 

Physical magic is the most simple. It is what it is. The world is run by the spirits, beings embodying and carrying the elements of nature. Traditional magic is merely them appealing to those who wish to use them beyond their rules. The spirits are temperamental but loyal. They are what they are.

The metaphysical, however, is run by the gods. It is so much more complicated. What is is what is, and what could be becomes. Prayers, wishes, and understandings: the world is run by that. At its very base are the spirits, but beyond that is pure belief and will. 

All deities are the epitome of belief and will. They control and manipulate, weaving threads in favor of their worshippers’ prayers. Often, people will worship shady beings. They’ll place their faith in the hands of others, and these misplaced beings absorb the divinity directed at them. They become false gods. 

But they are few in number compared to the dozens of true gods.

—

Ziren eventually found a draft in the tunnels. He aimlessly rode the wind for hours until he was above ground, surprisingly close to where he met Liluna.

Just like before, he walked to the gate guarded by Chiron Hallows. She was standing guard again.

How long had Ziren been walking?

Chiron looked up from her post and smiled at him.

“Liluna said you’d be here soon,” she said. Ziren raised an eyebrow. First name basis already? “It’s only been a week since you entered Avemmil. Gaet is doing pretty well now that the miasma source is gone.”

Ziren pursed his lips. “I didn’t remove the source. It’s fixed?”

Chiron blinked once, then again. “You… didn’t do it?”

“I found the source, I think,” Ziren explained. “By a false deity even deeper under the ground. I don’t believe they realized they were releasing miasma until I woke them up by my entrance.”

Chiron brought a hand up to her chin and pondered over this new information. “I’ll have to report this then. A false deity located in isolation instead of their cult is worrisome, especially if they can manipulate miasma.”

“Sure,” Ziren shrugged. “By the way…”

“Hm?” Chiron responded with a quirk of her head.

“What is a god doing as a normal guard?”

“Boredom, really,” Chiron laughed. “My clan has guarded this gate for generations. Cher over here is my great something nephew.” The other soldier looked over and waved before resuming his statue-like pose. “There’s only so many years a god of evasion can be a freelance artist before becoming bored. Unlike the main Twelve, us lesser deities don’t have much control over our designation.”

“And guarding a gate that’s only ever used maybe once every thousand years is any better?”

“Not really, but it’s a purpose until a war starts up or something. It’s so peaceful nowadays. All I’m ever called for are simple children’s’ games. Cute but nothing more than a passing glance to answer.”

“What a shame.”

“Please don’t instigate a war,” Chiron chuckled again, the tension underlying her voice in a very literal fear that did not match her joking tone.

“I won’t.”

“Thank you.” 

To her side, Cher gave a worried side-eyed glance before staring back out to the dark forest. He had no idea how to feel about this conversation and opted to remain ignorant. Mortals could not comprehend the frivolities of the gods, after all.

“Also, you had just missed Liluna leaving,” Chiron continued. “Deity Ruby left with her, but I don’t think she really wanted him to. You know how he is.”

“Thank you for the information,” Ziren answered politely with a nod of his head.

“Remember, if you ever need any help in Avemmil, I’ll be here from mid-afternoon to sunset every day.” Chiron smiled.

Ziren thought about it for a moment before coming to a decision. “Do you mind giving me a bloodstone?”

Chiron stiffened in surprise. “What an odd thing to ask,” she answered. “I can’t really deny you, you know, but are you sure you want one directly from me?”

“Marianne and Pheal have already ordered I be tracked, probably,” Ziren sighed. “It doesn’t really matter at this point. I might as well have literal invisibility under my belt while I’m at it.”

“No problem then!” She set her scythe down against the wall to free her hands. With a swish of her fingers around her other hand’s palm, a quintessential bloodstone appeared. “A god-made precious stone commonly known as Bloodstone and lesser-known as Heliotrope. Has the typical traits of its kind with the enhanced aspect of avoiding troublesome people in the form of invisibility and a little control over the weather.” Chiron held it out for Ziren. “Although, not like you need that last bit all things considered.”

“Thank you,” Ziren said. With a swirl of his own hand, he created two blue gemstones, one opaque and one crystal. “Turquoise for protection from accidents in travel should you decide to leave. Zircon for immunity from the less accidental and sicknesses, for whoever you wish to give it to.”

“Thank you!” Chiron gleefully chirped as she took the offered stones. She handed the zircon to her nephew, who was surprised. “To my favorite relative.” He stared at it in the surprise and mumbled his gratitude to Ziren.

“I’ll be going now.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left into the tree line. 

Chiron grinned the entire time, clutching the turquoise in her hand. “I can probably sell this,” she whispered to Cher. He shot a dead stare at her. “Just kidding. You know I don’t need to. You’re surprised that Apothecary Starliez is a god, right? Curious about why a god with two realms is passing as a mysterious immortal?” Cher nodded. “Keep it a secret, okay?”

—

If people are varied as the stars in the sky, then true gods are as varied as the leaves on a tree.

It was once said that the original humanity had fallen into ruin. There was no good. There was no bad. There was nothing. 

They existed, but they were not alive.

One day, someone uncovered an ancient box. Within this box contained every treasure known but forgotten to man.

This someone made a wish. They wished that humanity could experience the happiness they found.

Their single wish to the treasure box called forth ever gemstone in the box flew out and revealed the souls contained within them. Together, the souls of the gods asked for one thing.

_ ‘Spread hope. Spread us. Let them know.’ _

So that someone did. The gods had long forgotten their names, so that someone called them by the stones the gods were placed in.

What they did not understand was that happiness must be experienced along with hardship.

For it all to begin, something must end.

—

Ziren listened to the wind. 

Well, he wasn’t too bothered if it became a well-known secret in Avemmil. As long as it didn’t affect him too much, he really didn’t care. He’ll roam Earaat for as long as he’ll live after all.

With the beautifully lit up wall long out of sight and the sun setting below the horizon, the dark forest became pitch black. He closed his eyes and let the wind guide him out. Not a thought went through his mind.

As light filtered through the thin layer of his eyelids, Ziren blinked his eyes open. It was daybreak. The last morning stars were still visible. Based on their placement, he had only been walking for a few days.

“Apothecary Starliez!” a familiarly youthful voice called out. Ziren turned to find Liluna waving happily from a tree stump a little way out. “Just in time! Deity Pearl just left! Can you believe that their divineness, the secondary god of my tribe, actually talked to me!?”

“Who is your primary god?” Ziren questioned. 

“I actually don’t know! Apparently, he passed away almost a century to my birth, so for as long as I’ve been alive, my tribe has been waiting for his successor.”

Ziren had a feeling for where this was going but didn’t say a word. He took a deep breath and changed the topic. “So why are you still following me?”

“Same reason as before,” Liluna shrugged. “Completely unrelated to my reasons, Deity Pearl asked me to relay a message to you too. Um, in their exact words:

‘This is all his fault. He better deal with the problem he released onto the world, or I swear on his father’s grave, I am banning him from every water source. That pesky child picked up a feral stray and didn’t bother training it not to attack what displeases it.’

Or something like that.”

“I have no idea what they’re talking about,” Ziren replied, feigning innocence as an image of Riden appeared in their mind’s eye. “Did they tell you where I should go?”

“Mahrs, Oshiean!” Liluna answered ecstatically. “I’ve never been past the coastal reefs! Will we be going through Ferry Island? I heard that it’s really boring, but it’s also the location of the only controlled water elevator, and it’s surrounded by colorful flowers!”

“You’re really set on joining me, aren’t you?”

“Yep! It’s an unchangeable destiny!” Liluna hopped off of the stump and pointed to the south. “Let’s get going!”

Ziren sighed for the nth time and walked in the direction of her pointed finger. “Let’s go then.” 

Inside, he was grateful that the girl had a cheat to replace his nonexistent sense of direction.

He didn’t notice how Liluna didn’t catch up to him immediately. Something incorporeal had caught her attention. She frowned, but it wasn’t her place to say anything. In disturbed silence, she watched Ziren’s back as he continued to walk away from her.

Another vision passed through her eyes, and she forced out an exhale. Inhaling deeply, she plastered a grin on her face and chased after the mysterious man.

—

Deep in the catacombs under Gaet, Avemmil was the hollow bottom of a long-buried sinkhole. Two beings woke up side by side, souls aching and hearts broken from their individual tragedies.

There, they made a deal with the giantess who owned the pitch-black tunnels.


	5. Travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah... forgot to post yesterday.

A sandy brown-haired teen sat on the camel’s back while the camel’s owner walked. The two had left the town of Ochre only two days ago. It was the first two days of many months to come.

The teen neither spoke nor hummed. Not a single part of him made a sound. He was as silent as a ghost, and Ziren had almost taken him as one at first.

Even without a single rustle of fabric to verify his existence, Ziren found the teen to be great company. He was playful and smiled like starlight, bright but wistful, and almost out of reach.

The two had difficulties communicating. Despite the many languages Ziren had to be fluent in, the other only knew two. Of those two, there was only one he could write in, and Ziren couldn’t understand for the life of him, while the other language the teen understood but could not write in.

It was push-and-pull for quite a while until they finally managed to learn each other’s languages enough to communicate in conversationally. It was more difficult than necessary since not only was the teen’s handwriting worse than chicken scratch, he could not draw for the life of him either. 

Ziren wondered if the teen’s native language was written any more legibly than how he wrote Lialessce. Judging by how he held the pen, Ziren would think not. He wouldn’t be able to figure out anything for a full two months, but learning picked up after thankfully. 

Ziren had almost— almost run out of writing material.

Regardless, being isolated with only one person as company would lead to a few possibilities. The most likely would be that two people discover clashes in their personality and eventually tear at each others’ throats. In the case that they find their souls so in sync, in dire situations, they might find themselves becoming codependent with each other.

Neither happened here.

When souls don’t clash and life isn’t at stake, they could cohabit but otherwise, overlook the other. It wasn’t all that different from a married couple. In an endless expanse of sand and sky, with only two people, a camel, and a cart of personals, they managed to keep their minds occupied. 

It was nice. Sometimes the two would bounce ideas off of each other. Sometimes they argued over petty things like dessert preferences (Ziren stood firmly in favor of cake, and Riden’s taste in ice cream is absolutely wrong, and this time was definitely not a mistranslation).

Soon, they would be approaching another village. 

—

Liluna was the epitome of an ideal traveling partner. She held conversations well, had an amazing internal compass, and didn’t push boundaries. She was almost the opposite of Riden.

Riden never talked much unless he wanted something enough or disagreed enough to say it. Even then, it was mostly bitter quips and insinuations. He never said anything straight. Ziren rarely did either. 

And both Riden and Ziren had the worst sense of direction. Just the absolute worst. They went wherever the winds took them, and the winds weren’t always kind.

However, there was a boundary, a massive river separating the two of them that neither was brave nor strong enough to cross.

“What was he like?” Liluna suddenly asked. They had been walking for a full lunar cycle. Liluna felt that it was a decent time to ask. 

“He?”

“Your person. That person who was under your protection.” Ziren stared at her confusedly. “You mentioned it once when we went through Avemmil. I wanted to know why they didn’t need my identification.”

At this point, Liluna’s good memory shouldn’t surprise Ziren.

“His name is Riden,” Ziren started. “I think you wouldn’t get along with him at all.”

“Really? That’s weird,” Liluna mused. “I like to think I get along with everyone.”

“He’s very petty and suspicious,” Ziren assured. “But he likes mysteries. He doesn’t trust people who are open about themselves, but he’ll hover around those who don’t make any sense at all.”

“He sounds like a contradiction,” Liluna replied.

“Mhm. Rai’s a wonder.”

Liluna giggled. “Rai, huh? At first, I thought he was your kid or something, but now I’m curious.”

“He’s only a few years younger than me,” Ziren clarified.

Liluna hummed with a long, close-mouthed smile plastered on her face. “I hope you meet him again soon.”

Ziren stared at Liluna. “If you say so.” He stayed quiet for a few seconds, then added: “That type of vocalizer doesn’t work underwater by the way.”

“I did notice how cheaply it was made,” Liluna admitted, ignoring how blatantly he changed the topic.

“The cons of mass manufacturing,” Ziren shrugged. “They’re meant to be temporary. Might as well get a better one at Mahre since you’re tagging along.”

“Thank you!” 

Liluna added another item to the increasingly long list of things Ziren Starliez, apothecary, avoided.

—

People are drawn to that which they cannot explain. Whether they watch in fear, admiration, or curiosity depends on the source, people will watch nevertheless.

Power isn’t always what draws people in the end. Power can lure not only eyes but fear as well. The divine presence of a god is all they need to keep that healthy admiration.

Gods are always followed. It’s a case of evolution. They need to be followed in order to exist, after all.

If gods were to be suspicious of every person that decided to follow them without rhyme or reason, they wouldn’t be gods.

Liluna wasn’t the first set of feet to chase after him, and she wouldn’t be the last. 

When Ziren was a child growing up in Jun, Oshiean, he often led leagues of other children following him. The cavernous Jun, with its twisting streets and whimsical architecture, was a playground for children. It was easy for tourists to get lost even with the most detailed directions, but that was the fun part of the city, after all.

A young and orphaned Irec Nascal was excitable and adventurous. He went wherever he pleased, and he often ended up taking the entire neighborhood’s children with him. Despite being a large city easily lost in, the parents weren’t all too worried. Not only was Irec known to be young god, but he and his little followers were carefully watched over by the many eyes of Oshiean’s three patron deities.

When he would ascend, be bestowed the courtesy name Tsuor, and dragged to Ashueall, instead of the pattering of feet in shallow pools of water, he was followed by the beating of adolescent wings that never seemed to stay around before being replaced by others.

When he would purposefully fall and drag poison down with him, everyone stayed away. His divinity was no longer bright and cheerful, carrying the free and curious the souls of the less traveled youths. It was shrouded in death. 

No one followed him for years until a little immortal with brown hair and green eyes appeared from behind the newly built shrine for a dead god.

That was suspicious.

Riden was the first to follow Ziren after so many years. It really was too suspicious.

Time passes. Whispers fade away and are replaced too quickly. The tales of the Turquoise God of Death went away and took on their original form.

Ziren’s shadow no longer cautioned mortals away. He was no longer like the festival flame of a bonfire at night, but he glowed just a little bit more.

Riden was no longer the only one following him. Sometimes when passing through small towns, the young adults who wished to see the world would follow after him. They would part ways soon enough, but Ziren was used to being followed again.

—

Liluna liked to hum. It was an odd realization.

Undana couldn’t sing above water. They really weren’t meant to after all. Liluna had found a way to sing above water by using the vocalizer.

It’s not like she was the first to do so. Humming was actually quite standard for landlocked undana, but what surprised Ziren were the songs she chose to sing. 

They sounded exotic, sounded old. The hums sounded like the songs an elder god once sang when Ziren was young. Who sang it? Neither the name nor the face came to his mind.

It was frustrating.

“What song is this one?” Ziren asked when she began another song. She had been humming on and off, so this was the first time Ziren had listened long enough to find it appropriate to ask.

Liluna gave him that mysterious smile she often had. Ziren could already tell he wouldn’t be getting a straight answer.

“Who knows! It’s in Lialessce, after all.”

The lost language was not the answer he was expecting.

“Do you know a translated version of it?”

” Not really,” Liluna chirped. “All I know is that it’s a meaningless love song. It was really popular as that one song that parents would sing to their kids as a lullaby even though it wasn’t meant as one, you know?”

“Sure.”

—

Gods live for tens of thousands of years, but in a generation, they’re usually born within the same few thousand. There are 99 years from death to their reincarnation. This is a fact.

No one quite remembers what happened to the last Turquoise God, but everyone knows he died too soon. Everyone knows that his successor did not appear on time either. No, Tsuor Phoslane did not reappear until after the new generation of gods had firmly rooted themselves. 

When he was born with the name Irec, there were six gods of the previous era left. He was initially raised by the Emerald Deity of Reincarnation who died shortly after he left Oshiean. He was then placed under the care of the Sapphire Deity of Magic. He had also met the Ruby Deity of Life, the Amethyst Deity of Art, and the Opal Deity of Security a dozen or so times once. Those three died around the same time. (Ziren jumped from the sky shortly after.)

There were, however, two gods that were still alive last he was in Ashueall. Ziren had only met one of them officially.

The last era was known to be one of destruction and death. It was the era of the Millennia War between the deities, the fall of a primary religion, and the loss of an entire language. Blood rained like snow until both sky and ground were red. It was a cruel era, and the balance was thrown off.

By Ziren’s time, everyone knew to blame Garden Virtue.

Unlike Tsuor Phoslane, whose rumors faded away after a few generations passed, Garden’s grew and exacerbated. Just like how Peridot was cursed as a War God of Insanity, Garden became an Evil God of Vengeance. He was not considered worthy of the title of Garnet for he tore relationships apart instead of fixing them — not quite a Fallen god but almost. 

Ziren knew this and stayed away from the Pomegranate Pavilion as he was ordered to. 

But Ziren was a curious child.

He heard singing in a language he’d never heard before (he had every dominant language burned into his memory). 

There, in the pavilion, was the disgraced Garnet Deity. Just as the stories said, he had stunted wings of golden downy even in his old age. Sitting as he did in the center, singing a soft tune, Ziren thought he looked like a caged bird. 

Ziren wasn’t meant for sneaking around. He eventually gave himself away somehow, although he couldn’t remember how. 

Regardless, he caught Garden’s attention. The look of surprise in Garden’s eyes was quickly replaced by a kind smile.

“Ma rioaj?” Garden whispered. It was a phrase Ziren had heard at least once. In the back of his memory, a young voice greeted him timidly.

“Tsuor! Where are you?” another voice screamed from below. Ziren bowed to Garden quickly and jumped onto a passing wind current to escape.

Garden Virtue had disappeared like smoke a century ago. No one celebrated his death or his life; he left his life unceremoniously.

Nessana Aerison entered the stage a hundred years later refusing a courtesy name.

—

“Mahrs, the City of Ferries!” Liluna gleefully read off the sign. “Ferries! Everywhere! Boats!”

“Why do you like boats so much?” Ziren inquired. He was well aware of her excitement throughout the journey, but this was really the first time she’d displayed it so unabashedly.

“Boats are… boats!” Liluna shouted proudly. “What’s not to like about them? They’re just so… I don’t know. They’re interesting! Have you ever seen a naval ship before? Absolutely massive.”

“Once you ascend, you’ll probably have to voyage across the ocean to introduce yourself in the West World.”

“Those are the really big, fancy, and decorated ships! I was there to see Deity Ruby’s ship sail off to the Yluores continent! Boats!” Liluna threw her arms up. Her dramatics garnered a few judging stares and amused giggles from passersby.

Ziren carefully lowered her arms back down to her side. “We’re not at Mahrs yet. This is just a pier. We’ll catch one of the Ferries here to get there.”

“Boats,” Liluna reverently murmured under her breath, too excited to form a coherent sentence.

—

“What’s your favorite color?” Riden had asked when the curse of silence was lifted off of him.

“What’s your favorite color?” Liluna suddenly asked, plopping on the seat beside Ziren after running around and admiring the ferry. 

“Who cares?”

“It’s green,” Ziren answered. “The kind of green you only see in the stems of young herbs like rosemary.”

“So like a pale, kind of desaturated green?”

“Like that.”

“That’s a pretty color,” Liluna laughed. “Seems appropriate for you too. Mine is lilac!”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Ziren hummed, eyeing the lilac embroidery, hemming, and accessories. Liluna stuck her tongue out. “I’m not lying. I would have guessed pink or blue.”

“I’m not tacky enough to wear full purple,” Liluna huffed. “Besides, it’s expensive.”

“And blue hair dye isn’t?” 

“It’s synthetic,” she replied, brushing a hand subconsciously through her hair. “Is that why I’ve been getting stares?”

“Yep. Do you mind the stares?”

“Not really.” Liluna pulled her hair over her shoulder and brushed through them with her fingers. “I don’t think I’ve seen a lot of people with dyed hair around. Not that I haven’t seen them at all, but it’s really uncommon.”

“It’s old fashioned,” Ziren tried to explain. “And it’s… I guess it has some connotations to it?”

“Huh?” Liluna stopped picking at a knot.

“The only people who still dye their hair nowadays are those from tribes in Yluores and Gaiya.” Ziren’s hand twitches in a subconscious need to run through his own hair. “Although, that’s just Earaat. It’s been too long since I’ve been in Oshiean, so I’m not sure how it is there.”

“I wouldn’t know either,” Liluna sighed, resuming her makeshift hair brushing. “Maes River is pretty isolated. It’s too far inland to interact with other undana and too deep in the forests to interact with most terrams. Haven Town is really the only settlement we interact with.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Ziren reassured. “They’ll end up staring for things beyond your control anyway.”

“Like what?”

“Divinity.”

“Ah.” Liluna looked out to the water’s horizon. “You know, this ferry is really poorly maintained. Someone should do something about it. I was walking around and noticed that the railing eastside is really loose. A little bit of rain and the weight of an average adult could knock it right into the ocean.”

“I’ll file a complaint later then.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the horizon.

—

Ziren was conceived in a shady inn between a frivolous, wealthy, young lumina lady and a human office drone looking to forget their problems. Neither cared for that night and they never would either. 

They could sense the resulting offspring’s divinity, but they wanted nothing to do with raising it. It would only make sense to leave the infant in more capable hands. 

His existence was a bump in their aimless lives and easily fixed by leaving him at a shrine with nothing but the written slip of paper.

“Welcome home, precious stone,” the late May Deity whispered, cradling the bundle of cloth as he entered his home. Merid approached a much younger, adolescent-age Pheal Nascal. “His name is Irec. Would you mind if he took your surname?”

“Can I give him his courtesy name?”

“That’s up to dear Diamante, but I’d like to know what you’d suggest.”

“Tsuor, like soaring through the low winds,” Pheal told Oshiean’s Imperial Deity. “Tsuor Nascal sounds like a good name for the Turquoise Deity.”

—

“You know,” Liluna began. “I don’t really get gods.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, aside from a couple of fancy abilities like my sight — which isn’t even guaranteed for each Moonstone incarnation — and a really, really long lifespan, deities aren’t much different from normal mortals.”

“You’re not particularly wrong,” Ziren drawled. “But there’s more to it, I suppose. There are actually only two dozen or so true gods. Most of us deities worshipped around the world aren’t actually fully divine; they’re demigods. The general public still calls them gods, though since they can influence things a little. There are also false gods, but that’s a different story.”

“So I’m a demigod?”

Ziren choked out a laugh. “No,” he answered bluntly. “You are, or at least you will be, one of the true gods, a minor one but true nonetheless. You can think of minor true gods as the right hands of the Main Twelve. Moonstone is Pearl’s secondary.”

Liluna blinked. “I am?”

“Mhm.”

“What are you then?”

“Maybe later.”

“Boo.” 

“You’ll understand what I mean about there being more to you than you think,” Ziren continued, poking Liluna’s forehead. “It can get really difficult and lonely. You’ll find it hard to bear, but I think you’ll be fine. You’ll find your way. You are the God of Guidance, after all.” With a bit of sleight of hand, Ziren procured a round, opaque stone whose blue matched the sky. Red streaks ran all over it like the rivers on a map. “But let’s hope you don’t have any accidents along the way.”

Liluna grinned toothily as she accepted the turquoise bead. “Thanks.”

When they finally reached Mahrs, Liluna pretended that her thoughts were entirely focused on the diverse array of sea vessels. 

She reached into her pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t betaed. If you see errors, please let me know. I’ll do my best to keep the quality up, but I don’t have an editor or any beta readers tbh. I would love feedback for this story, so please leave a comment letting me know what you think! 
> 
> Also, on Instagram, I post artwork and some information on where this story is going (although most of what I have for Records is actually out of date). Please check out @dreamlessashes for official art and story updates or @sing-me-under for WIPs and Sketches. Or just talk to me!


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